Harry Potter and the Brother Who Lived
by Useless Mortals
Summary: A world where Harry Potter's twin brother, Daniel Potter, is the Boy Who Lived and their parents are still alive. Harry still ends up at the Dursleys for a certain reason. Dumbledore isn't some evil conniving monster. Harry and Daniel are both smart and talented, but (hopefully) not overly so; this isn't a twin fic where Harry is a god and the other twin is a dribbling moron.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first ever fic, so please be understanding in your criticism.**

Lord Voldemort stepped over the threshold of the Potter cottage. He threw the black haired man against the wall with a casual flick of his wand. The auburn haired witch had time to point her wand at him before she suffered the same fate.

Voldemort cast a simple search spell and located two babies upstairs. He stepped over the unconscious forms as he walked towards the stairs. He'd kill them on his way out. Thwarting the prophecy took precedence.

A few moments later he stepped into a cheerful little room. Voldemort couldn't help but sneer at the zebras, giraffes, and other animals painted on the walls. He set aside his distaste as he moved over towards the crib. He looked down at the children inside, mildly surprised. Pettigrew hadn't mentioned that there had been twins. He would have to punish him later. A cruel smile crossed his lips at the thought.

He raised his wand and pointed it at the children. One of them blinked open its eyes and looked right at him. Voldemort paused, curious as to how the child would react. It blinked at him again before looking down at his wand. It frowned a little before looking at where the wand was pointed. The frown deepened when it saw that it was pointed at its twin.

Voldemort sneered as the baby crawled between his wand and the other child. It looked at him defiantly, as though daring him to attack. Well, why wouldn't he dare?

"Avada kedavra!"

Pain like nothing Voldemort had ever experienced ripped through him, along with a deep sense of shock. He could feel his body crumbling from the backlash of an avada kedavra gone wrong. He could feel his _soul _being torn apart and cast out of his disintegrating body. But what had gone wrong? What could possibly have gone wrong?!

As Voldemort's soul was catapulted from the house, the twins began to cry. A few minutes later, James Potter staggered into the room with his wand in hand, looking around wildly for Voldemort. When he was certain there was no immediate threat he rushed over to the crib. What he found there shocked him.

One of the babies, Daniel, had a scar on his forehead that looked remarkably like eihwaz, the rune of protection and perseverance. James blinked at them, baffled at why Voldemort would carve runes on them instead of killing them like he'd been dreading. He quickly cast a spell to play back what had happened in the room during the last thirty minutes. He watched in shock as one of the twins - he couldn't tell which - protected the other. His shock only deepened when Voldemort was blasted apart by his own curse rebounding.

James turned to look at the two children. He didn't know for certain which one had caused Voldemort's curse to rebound, yet he couldn't help but believe that it was Daniel, since Daniel was the one with the rune of protection on his forehead. As he hugged the two boys to his chest, he wondered why the curse would cause a rune to appear on Daniel's forehead.

Daniel started to cry. James clutched him to his chest tighter, letting Harry slip to the floor. Nearly ten minutes later, Lily Potter came crashing up the stairs, wand in hand. She looked frantically around the room, then her eyes locked on James Potter and their two sons. She dashed over, picking up Harry and looking him over before focusing her attention on Daniel.

"What happened to him?" She asked after taking a look at his forehead.

"I used _videre praeterita_, but it was distorted, probably from all the magic. All I could see was that Voldemort filling a killing curse at Daniel. It rebounded and hit Voldemort himself, seemingly obliterating him!"

"But that… How is that possible?" She whispered.

"I have no idea," James said frankly. "I was hoping Dumbledore might. I sent him a message. Hopefully he'll arrive soon."

But it was nearly two hours later before Dumbledore arrived. He looked exhausted and worn.

"Ah, ah. Good, I'm glad you're all alright." Dumbledore gratefully collapsed into a chair at James' gestured invitation. "My apologies for the wait. After receiving your message I thought it prudent to act against Voldemort's followers before they had a chance to recover from the shock of Voldemort's disappearance."

"So he really is gone then?" Lily asked quickly.

Dumbledore sighed. "It certainly appears so. I find it hard to believe that Voldemort could die so suddenly. Yet that's exactly what seems to have happened. The dark mark has faded on his followers, becoming little more than a smudge on their arms. The blood magic he worked on his inner circle has lost its power, making it far easier to capture them than I initially expected. But most damningly, dozens of Ministry workers have been freed from the _imperius_ curse. Any one of these things wouldn't be enough for me to call Voldemort dead, but all of them together along with what you've told me? I simply don't see an alternative."

James gestured down at the twins. "But what about our boys?" His voice was pleading. Begging Dumbledore to confirm that there was nothing wrong with either of them.

Dumbledore pulled out his wand and waved it at the twins, mumbling several different spells as he did so. He closed his eyes for a moment, processing what he had learned. Then he nodded at Daniel.

"Daniel was certainly the one hit by the _avada kedavra_. The traces of it linger in the cut on his forehead." Dumbledore paused as he considered Harry.

"Harry is different. He was certainly struck by horribly dark magic, but I must confess that I have no idea what it is. Only that it has to do with the mind and soul. If I didn't know better, I'd say that it tried to possess him and was fought off by his magic. But if Voldemort truly did cast a possession spell, Harry here wouldn't have stood a chance. Therefore I'm stumped as to what it is."

Both James and Lily were looking terrified. After a minute of them all staring at Harry, James spoke up.

"What should we do?"

Dumbledore frowned. "Well, we should certainly seal the dark magic in Harry. We should also take Daniel to St. Mungo's to get the traces of the _avada kedavra _removed."

"What will sealing the dark magic do to him?"

"Well," Dumbledore's shoulders slumped slightly, "It will likely turn him into a squib."

James and Lily both jerked. "A squib!" Lily shouted, face turning red. "You want to turn our son into a squib!"

Dumbledore gave her a mildly reproachful look that caused her to wilt and her anger to evaporate. "The dark magic must be sealed for the simple reason that I have no idea what it does and therefore must assume that it's something terrible. But the problem with that is that it had already attempted to infect his magic. As I said, if I didn't know better, I'd say that it tried and failed to possess him. But whatever it was actually trying to do, it became intertwined with his magic. Therefore sealing the dark magic without sealing Harry's magic will be nearly impossible. I'll naturally try my best and ask a few associates for help, but you need to know that it's almost certain that Harry will be turned into a squib by the process."

Lily buried her face in her hands and started crying. James wrapped his arms around her as tears fell down his own face. Dumbledore pursed his lips slightly as he watched them. A touch of legilimency told him precisely why they were crying. They were concerned about their son and sorry for the future he could have had if this night had never occurred. But more than that, they were horrified by the idea of their son being a squib. Because it was such a _shameful_, _horrible_ thing. He'd thought better of them, especially Lily.

He shook his head and stood up. "I'd like to take Harry with me. I'll contact my associates immediately and we'll attempt to seal the dark magic. The sooner we do it, the better his chances of keeping his magic."

Their eyes widened simultaneously and James, who had been holding Harry, quickly passed him over to Dumbledore. Dumbledore held the child gently, smiling sadly down at him.

The next several weeks passed in a blur. The grip the death eaters had on Magical Britain was shattered. The whole nation, and much of the continent, celebrated. Daniel Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was made into an icon. His vast natural reserves of magical power, his display of accidental magic at the tender age of one and a half, and the rune on his forehead only added to his legend.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore split his time between studying Harry in order to design a ritual to seal the dark magic and doing his best to repair the damage Voldemort and his death eaters had caused Magical Britain at large. After about two and a half weeks, Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel showed up, along with Mad-Eye Moody and Gilderoy Lockhart, who'd made quite a name for himself in recent times, in order to help Dumbledore with the ritual to seal the dark magic.

"So, what exactly are we dealing with Dumbledore?" Moody asked gruffly.

"I can say with almost total certainty that it is a piece of a soul," Dumbledore said gravely.

Nicolas' eyes widened in shock, while Perenelle's head snapped up from the notes of the ritual. "What kind of soul magic was used?" She asked urgently.

Dumbledore frowned. "I can't be certain. I myself never did much research into the magic of souls. Most of what I know I learnt over the last several weeks. However, I'm currently considering the idea of horcrux magic. Although why Voldemort would turn Harry into a horcrux is beyond me."

Perenelle frowned, while Nicolas looked slightly lost. He'd done almost no serious study of soul magic. Everyone jerked as Lockhart spoke up.

"I believe I might know a thing or two about horcruxes." Everybody stared at the youngest wizard in the room. Gilderoy shifted uncomfortably. His expression, usually so buoyant and carefree, was looking serious and pale. "I ran across a horcrux in Egypt. Just a year after I graduated. I didn't know what it was when I first found it; just that it was the darkest magic I'd ever felt. It took me almost four years to figure out what it was and how to destroy it."

Lockhart paused, frowning at the memory. "Horcruxes are containers for soul fragments that a dark wizard has split from the main part of his soul." Lockhart ignored the horrified looks as he plowed on.

"That gives them nearly the same level of invulnerability that a soul has. As such, only fiendfyre, basilisk venom, or phoenix tears can destroy a horcrux. The first two are so destructive that they are capable of breaking the container of the soul fragment despite it being fortified by the soul fragment. And phoenix tears are full of such perfectly pure magic that they counter the dark magic binding the soul fragment to the container, thus freeing the soul fragment from the container. After being freed, it will assumedly rejoin the dark wizard it came from."

"But what's the point of it?" Nicolas burst out. He looked appalled at the knowledge he'd just gained. "Why would anybody do something as horrible, _as stupid_, as splitting their soul?!"

"Well," Lockhart said delicately, "I believe the goal of horcruxes is to give immortality. At the very least, it was for that purpose that Herpo the Foul invented them. The idea is that they act as anchors to this plane of existence for the main part of the dark wizard's soul. However, given that I found the horcrux of a very obviously dead Egyptian wizard, it stands to reason that whatever form of immortality they grant has flaws."

"That makes things simple then," Moody grunted. "Just sprinkle the boy with tears from that phoenix Dumbledore keeps."

Lockhart frowned. "I'm not sure that will work, Moody."

"Why not? Didn't you just say that phoenix tears counter the dark magic?"

"For inanimate containers. Harry here is alive. Everything I read about horcruxes focused on using inanimate objects as the containers. Whenever living containers were mentioned, it was to say that making them was a bad idea since the normal rules of horcruxes were essentially thrown out the window." Gilderoy sighed as he looked as the child sleeping in the crib. "Now, I'm not saying we shouldn't try phoenix tears. It's certainly possible they'll work. It's just that we shouldn't get our hopes up."

Dumbledore gave a weary sigh. "Well, best to get on with it, no matter the outcome. Perenelle, Lockhart, would you please go through the ritual and check for any errors? Moody, if you'd be so kind as to examine Harry and check my findings? And Nicolas, would you check the arithmancy and runes for the ritual? I'll get phoenix tears, if Fawkes would be so kind as to offer them."

Moody grunted. "He'd better. A child's life depends on it."

"We'll get right to it," Nicolas said, giving Moody a pointed look. The auror scowled and took a swig from his hip flask before shuffling over to the baby and pulling out his wand.

Dumbledore returned half an hour later with a small flask of glittering, sparkling liquid. Perenelle and Lockhart were still debating certain parts of the diagram. Or rather, Perenelle bounced her ideas off Lockhart. Brilliant as he was, he simply couldn't match the experience the five hundred year old woman had in the field. Nicolas had just finished checking the arithmancy and runes. There had only been a few minor mistakes in the runes. If you could even call them that, since the only problem would be that the ritual would cost a little extra magic. Moody had long since finished checking Harry and was looking annoyed in a corner.

Lockhart looked eagerly at Dumbledore as he entered. "You have the tears?"

"I do."

Moody grunted. "Took you long enough."

"That's enough Moody," Nicolas said placating. "It isn't easy for a phoenix to give his or her tears. They're more than just liquid. They're the purest form of healing magic given form. It's exhausting to the phoenix to make them and they're never given lightly, for they irrevocably change a witch or wizard touched by them.

Lockhart looked over, surprised. "Irrevocably changed? I've never heard of that."

Perenelle chuckled. "Few have. Nicolas only knows since he experimented with phoenix tears a while back."

Nicolas smiled fondly. "I was trying to create a more permanent form of immortality than the stone grants. Failing that, I wanted to find a way to manufacture phoenix tears. But alas, both were impossible. However, I did find that phoenix tears give a person permanent minor healing powers and some control over fire of any sort, even cursed fires like fiendfyre. It also allows a phoenix to speak to them directly, although the connection is one way and very rudimentary."

Dumbledore nodded. "That last one is certainly true. Fawkes once used his tears to save me from an alchemy experiment gone wrong. Afterwards, he's been able to send his thoughts to me. Although he's only able to send simple sentences with up to four words. He mostly sticks to sending me emotions."

"This is all very interesting, but I think we should try to use the damn tears instead of waxing eloquent about them for the next ten years," Moody snarked.

Nicolas sighed. "Moody, would it kill you to be polite?"

"Yes."

Perenelle smiled at Moody. It was a dangerous smile that made the auror distinctly uneasy.

"Be polite," She commanded. Nicolas chuckled as the auror nodded instinctively before realizing what he was doing and scowling.

Dumbledore smiled as he walked over to Harry. "Lockhart, is there any specific way we should do this?"

Lockhart shook his head. "I don't know. I suppose sprinkle some on him and have him ingest the rest?"

"I would suggest half being ingested and half injected into his bloodstream directly," Nicolas interjected. "Sprinkling any on him would be a waste. Better to inject it directly into the blood."

Dumbledore nodded. He pulled the cork out of the bottle and poured half of it down Harry's throat, using magic to make sure he swallowed without wasting any. He then turned the bottle into a syringe and gently pricked a vein and injected the phoenix tears. All five of them watched and waited. Lockhart unconsciously held his breath.

Absolutely nothing happened.

"What are we waiting for?" Moody asked.

"Anything, I suppose," Perenelle said.

"Does this mean we have to use the ritual?" Lockhart asked.

Dumbledore looked like he'd aged ten years all in a moment. "Yes," he said solemnly. "I believe it does."

Nicolas patted him on the back. "This has to be done Dumbledore. Better to live without magic than to die as a baby."

Dumbledore nodded jerkily, but tears were appearing at the corners of his eyes. He was condemning this child to a life without the wonders of magic. He would never be able to see Hogwarts, never fly on a broom, never experience the wonderful joy of casting spells and watching the world bend to his will. He rubbed at his eyes and sighed.

"Shall we then?" His voice came out slightly hoarse.

The others nodded and they set up the ritual. Three hours later the horcrux, along with the magic of Hadrian James Potter, was sealed away.

After the other four left, Dumbledore stayed there. He couldn't stop an aching feeling in his heart as he looked at the child. He vowed to himself then and there to research soul magic more thoroughly. He would find a way to destroy horcruxes and similar magics without harming the living container. He swore it on his very magic.

Half an hour later, Dumbledore arrived at the Potter manor. He gave the Potters back their son, telling them that he'd been unable to save the boy's magic. He hadn't missed the clenched jaws, but despite his misgivings, he knew the Potters would raise the boy well. He was their son after all, and they weren't bad people. Even if they disliked having a squib son.

But unknown to Dumbledore, the Potters were determined not to have a squib son. At least, not one that anybody knew about. Thus, they gave him away to Vernon and Petunia Dursley, telling them that Harry had been born without magic and thus belonged in the muggle world. The Dursleys had grudgingly accepted the boy, but vowed to watch him closely.

Unfortunately, Harry was not born without magic. In fact, he'd been born with a rather incredible amount of magic. And no seal concocted in a few weeks could hold it back for very long.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Four Years Later * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Boy! Get down here and clean the kitchen!" Vernon Dursley roared.

The five year old Harry jumped off his bed, where he'd been sitting, and towards the stairs. His uncle was liable to knock him around if he took too long to follow orders. That or he wouldn't be given food the rest of the day.

As he got to the top of the stairs, his sneering cousin stuck out a foot to trip him. With a scream of terror, Harry toppled down the stairs. His nose slammed into the first stair, crunching in a way that would have been horribly disconcerting if Harry hadn't already been preoccupied with falling the rest of the way down the stairs. He fell and fell and fell. It seemed like both forever and a single instant before he hit the floor hard enough to snap his right forearm. He let out another scream of pain as it happened before sinking into blissful unconsciousness.

Uncle Vernon poked his head out of the kitchen as Aunt Petunia ran out of the living room where she'd been watching a soap opera. Dudley was wide-eyed at the top of the stairs. He hadn't quite realized just how horrible a fall down the stairs could be.

"Quick, Vernon. Call somebody!" Aunt Petunia was almost hysterical as she ran over to Harry's side. She didn't dare touch him in case she hurt him worse, but was terrified to just leave him there. Then she froze as her breath caught in her throat. Harry's arm was mending. Slowly but surely, the bone was moving back into place. The swelling was receding and the purplish bruises were fading. Even his crushed nose was repairing itself.

"Vernon," She whispered in horror. Then, louder, "Vernon! Don't call anybody!"

The sound of Uncle Vernon's frantic shouting subsided and he stuck his head back out the kitchen doorway with a corded phone pressed against his ear. His eyes widened in shock as he looked at Harry. He quickly muttered apologies to the person on the other end, saying things like "False alarm" and "So sorry". Then he rounded on Aunt Petunia.

"I thought your sister said he didn't have it! That he was normal!" He hissed. His face was turning red as he looked at Harry. A scar had formed on the skin where his broken bone had punched through, but that was the only sign he'd ever been hurt. He was just lying there, sleeping peacefully.

"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! They're not right! We can't raise one of them around Dudley!"

"I know, I know," Aunt Petunia hissed. "But I don't know how to contact my sister. They don't have a phone. They communicate with each other using those foul owls."

Uncle Vernon scowled down at Harry. "Then we'll have to stamp it out of him."

Aunt Petunia gave the boy a nervous look. "I'll try to get ahold of my sister. It will be better if I can. But you're right of course. If we can't give him back, we'll just have to get rid of the magic in him. We can't have him doing anything. Anything at all."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Nearly Six Years Later * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Harry quietly sat in his cupboard, thinking. It was all he ever did, really. Think and meditate. He was currently thinking about magic. He glanced down at his hand and a faint smile crossed his lips. He concentrated and a small flame appeared, dancing and flickering between his fingers. He let the fire disappear and the cupboard was pitch black once more. He'd only recently figured that trick out.

Harry grimaced as he pushed at the cupboard door. Normally around this time he'd go raid the kitchen for some food, but his aunt had locked him in for the night. His punishment for 'accidentally' setting a snake on his cousin.

He grinned at the memory. It hadn't been one of the smartest things he'd done recently, but he had no regrets. Besides, after he'd accidentally vanished the glass he figured setting the snake on Dudley wouldn't do that much more damage. He'd have been locked up either way. But he probably could have avoided the beating if he hadn't asked the snake to attack Dudley. Still, beatings didn't really bother him. It's not like any of the damage was permanent. Well, there were scars, but he didn't really care about those. And the pain only lasted until the injuries healed themselves, which never took long.

He sighed as he closed his eyes and started meditating. He wasn't tired. Drawing on whatever energy fueled his fire always energized and refreshed him. He quickly entered his mindscape. Or so he'd named the world inside his mind. He wasn't sure what else to call it.

He smiled as he looked at the world he'd made. It was a beautiful forest with a small river forming a series of waterfalls over rocks. It had been his pet project for the last few years, ever since he'd first entered his mindscape. In here he was happy. He was safe. He glanced at the crumbling castle off in the distance and frowned. Mostly safe.

The decrepit looking castle had clearly been impressive at one point, but was in total disrepair. Harry had tried to explore the strange place when he'd first entered his mindscape, but strange, terrifying monsters had tried to attack him. He'd had to run for his life. When the creatures tried to follow him out of the castle, they'd slammed into some sort of barrier and been forced back. Harry had never tried to enter the castle again. He didn't know what the barrier was, and he didn't want to see if anything in the castle was able to break through it.

He'd tried creating creatures of his own to protect his forest in the same way, but had only met with limited success. He'd managed to create a few types of birds, but animals were hard to form for some reason.

Harry was startled out of his mindscape at the sound of knocking. He looked around his cupboard, confused and a little disoriented from the sound. The knocking at the front door came again and he heard his uncle shouting in irritation.

"Who's knocking in the middle of the night!"

There was a brief pause. Then, _knock, knock._

Harry heard his uncle give a wordless roar of frustration before he came pounding down the stairs. He held his breath and hunched his shoulders instinctively as his furious uncle thumped by his cupboard. He heard his uncle unlock the door and jerk it open.

"Who the ruddy he-" Uncle Vernon seemed to choke on his words.

"Good evening Mr. Dursley. I recently came across a rather alarmingly addressed envelope and thought I should personally investigate."

"Wha- What are you- Who are you?!" Uncle Vernon whispered in a hoarse voice that Harry had to strain to hear.

"My name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Harry gave a quiet gasp at the admission. Uncle Vernon made a squeaking noise, like a mouse being stepped on.

"You see Mr. Dursley, you have a wizard living in your house who has been accepted to Hogwarts. There's a spell that we use to find the exact address of those who have been accepted to Hogwarts. It's very, very precise so that there will never be any mistakes made." Dumbledore's voice had gain a hard edge to it. "I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw that Hadrian James Potter was living in a _cupboard under the stairs_ at Privet Drive!"

Uncle Vernon began stammering some sort of defense, but Dumbledore cut him off. "I don't want to hear your excuses. Bring me to Harry."

Harry heard Uncle Vernon take in a sharp breath and imagined him swelling up like a bullfrog. "He's not going to your ruddy school! We swore when we found out about his- his _freakishness_\- that we'd stamp it out of him! That we'd make him normal!"

Harry heard a heavy thump, then soft footsteps. There was a clicking noise at his cupboard door, then the door slowly opened. An old man with a long white beard wearing flowing silver robes. A slightly horrified expression appeared on his face as he took in the tiny cupboard. There was a bed, a half full water cup, and a threadbare blanket. Spider webs dominated the far end of the cupboard.

"Oh Harry," He whispered. "What have they done to you?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'll try to get at least one chapter out every week.**

**\- A kind reviewer (Sturmundsterne****)**** pointed out that The Santi's Harry Potter and the Boy Who Lived will always overshadow mine. Therefore I've made the ever-so-radical change in titles to Harry Potter and the Brother Who Lived. Sorry for any confusion.**

**Chapter 2**

"I'm sorry? What has who done to me?" Harry asked cautiously.

Dumbledore shook his head gently. "I'll tell you later. For now, just come with me. You won't be staying here any longer."

Harry blinked. Not staying here? "Where will I go if I won't be here?"  
"Well for now, you'll stay at Hogwarts. There's a few spare rooms you can make use of." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at this understatement.

Harry's face brightened at the reminder about Hogwarts. "You said you're the headmaster of a school for witchcraft and wizardry? A school for magic?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Yes, I am. Out of my many jobs, it's easily my favorite."

Harry grinned. "And you said I'll be going there?"

"Yes, you will be." Dumbledore's smile didn't disappear, but his face still darkened slightly. Harry noticed.

"Is… Is that alright, sir?" Harry was trembling slightly as he asked the question.

Dumbledore didn't notice. "It is and it isn't. I'm thrilled that you're coming, but you also weren't supposed to. As for why that is, I'll explain later. Along with the several other things you'll need to know. For now, clothes, food, and a bed are all you should think about." He smiled at the confused boy. He felt like he'd be sick as he realized just how gaunt Harry was.

Harry smiled and looked down, a little embarrassed for some unknown reason. "Thank you, sir."

Dumbledore forced himself to smile back. "Come on Harry," He said gently.

Harry got up and clamped out of his cupboard. He followed Dumbledore to the door, where his Uncle Vernon was slumped on the ground with his back against the wall.

Harry looked, wide-eyed. "Is he dead?"

"No, merely unconscious," Dumbledore said quietly. "Now, Harry, grab onto my elbow. Hold on tight; this will be rather uncomfortable."

Harry grabbed Dumbledore's elbow and held as hard as he could. Dumbledore fought a grimace at Harry's vice-like grip. He'd have never guessed Harry was that strong from his thin appearance. He took a casual step forward, soundlessly apparating without needing to turn on his heel like normal wizards.

The two of them appeared in front of Hogwarts castle. Harry's jaw dropped.

"It's the castle!" He blurted.

Dumbledore gave him a sharp look. "Have you seen the castle before?" He asked.

Harry nodded, staring at the castle in shock. "It's in my head. Except it's ruined. And full of monsters." He turned to give Dumbledore an anxious look. "There aren't monsters in there, right? The ones in the castle in my head chased me. I only barely got out before they caught me."

Dumbledore felt his heart sinking. "Harry," he began, "What did the monsters look like? And how did you get away?"

Harry shivered slightly. "Most of them were like dead people. Some were these horrible hooded figures that flew at me. They were so cold and hateful." He shuddered again. Then his face brightened slightly. "There was also this giant snake. All the other monsters were scared of it. It told me to run and not look into its eyes because they were under orders to kill any intruders, but it didn't want to kill me since I was a speaker. Whatever that means."

"But Harry, how did you escape?" Dumbledore's heart was beating faster than it had in years.

Harry looked a little confused. "I got out of the castle and ran out this entrance-" he gestured towards the gated entrance to Hogwarts that they were standing at. "They tried to follow me, but slammed into a golden barrier. They were furious, but it didn't make a difference. The barrier kept them from following me. So I ran away until I could barely see the castle. And then I found this weird tree. It had golden apples heaving off it and the leaves were all silvery."

Dumbledore's eyes widened. Having your inner mind manifest as a silver tree meant you had a rare amount of natural talent for the mind arts. He himself only had a basic web, which was neither good nor bad as far as natural talent went.

"And I thought it was kind of strange that there was just a single tree in the middle of nowhere in my mind. And I wondered if I could make a real forest." Harry babbled. "I tried it, and it worked. I tried making animals to protect my forest from the monsters in the castle, in case they ever got out. But I was only able to make some red and gold feathered birds. Looked a little like chickens, actually. Chickens mixes with eagles."

Dumbledore felt a little dazed. Those birds sounded suspiciously like phoenixes. "Harry, would you allow me to look into your mind once we get to my office?"

Harry hesitated for a moment. He'd been babbling, but now that he'd gotten control of himself, he was a bit cautious of just letting somebody into his head. Then he looked Dumbledore in the eye. _This is Dumbledore,_ he thought. _Dumbledore! The person who saved me. Who took me from the Dursleys._

"Alright."

Dumbledore smiled gently. "Thank you, Harry," he said gratefully.

Dumbledore sighed as he looked at the nervous boy in front of him. Harry had consented to going through a series of tests and mental examinations before being told precisely what was going on. The results had been both alarming and satisfying.

Originally, the horcrux had been sealed away by the ritual, as intended. Harry's own magic had been sealed along with the horcrux purely because they had no choice. Yet somehow, the bonds between the horcrux and Harry's magic had weakened over the years. Dumbledore suspected the phoenix tears were the cause of this deterioration, but had no way to be certain. But regardless of the exact cause, it had happened.

Once the bonds had weakened enough, the ritual had severed them completely, freeing Harry's magic so that it could be used freely while the horcrux remained safely sealed. It wasn't perfect. There was still a mental connection between the horcrux and Harry. Although it was weak enough that Dumbledore wouldn't have known about it if not for Harry mentioning the castle in his mind that looked like a ruined version of Hogwarts.

On the bright side, the birds Harry created in his mindscape were indeed phoenixes. Or rather, some of them were. Most were simply birds related to the phoenix, but there were seven genuine phoenixes flying about Harry's mind.

Dumbledore rubbed his temples and sighed lightly as he looked at the boy in front of him, trying hard to think of a way to gently tell him everything he needed to know. For a moment, he seriously considering simply not telling him anything beyond his parents being alive and him having a famous and special twin brother. Then he discarded the idea. Harry needed to know.

Dumbledore steepled his fingers and sighed again. "Harry, I don't know quite how to say this, so I'll be blunt. Your family- your parents and twin brother- are alive and well."

Harry went rigid. He didn't know what he'd been expected from Dumbledore, but that definitely hadn't been it.

"My family, sir?" He asked weakly.

Dumbledore gave him a sad smile. "Yes Harry. They sent you to your aunt and uncle's when you were a baby. Presumably because you weren't supposed to have magic."

There was a faint roaring sound in Harry's ears that made it hard for him to hear properly, but he'd definitely caught that last part. "Not supposed to have magic?"

Dumbledore sighed yet again and leaned back in his chair. "There used to be a powerful dark wizard who called himself Lord Voldemort."

Harry blinked at the sudden tangent, but kept his mouth shut as Dumbledore continued with a far-away, haunted look in his eyes.

"He was powerful. Very powerful. He had amassed a following and was attempting to take over Magical Britain. And he had come very close to succeeding when a prophecy was made."

Harry felt a sudden sense of foreboding.

"This prophecy spoke of a child whose parents had defied Voldemort three times and would be born as the seventh month dies. This child would have the power to defeat Voldemort. Well, as you can imagine, Voldemort wasn't pleased by this news. He sent out his spies and found two families who fit the description. The Potters and the Longbottoms. However, both families had been warned by our side and had gone into hiding."

Dumbledore sighed heavily as he looked at Harry, who stared back, wide-eyed and nervous. "Your parents were betrayed by a close friend of theirs, Peter Pettigrew. He gave the location of their hiding spot to Voldemort, who went there with the intention of wiping out the Potter family. However, when he tried to kill you and your brother, the power hidden inside your brother exploded forth, blasting and destroying Voldemort. However, when Voldemort was ripped apart, he used an incredibly dark spell to attempt to preserve himself. Although it failed, it left its mark on you."

Harry jerked. "M-me?" He stammered. "Why me? Why wouldn't he target my brother? Wasn't my brother the child in the prophecy?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, although the term most use is 'boy-who-lived'. The prophecy is only known by a small number of people. I'll have to ask that you don't tell anybody about it without asking me first. Or about the dark magic that Voldemort placed on you. But yes, he is the boy-who-lived. The only person ever known who has survived being hit by the killing curse. Presumably Voldemort assumed that whatever magic protected him from the killing curse, which is one of the darkest magics known, would have protected him from this other dark magic he was casting. So he used it on you instead."

Harry frowned. "What was it?"

Dumbledore shook his head gently. "I'm afraid I won't be telling you that yet. Suffice to say, it's the reason you have that castle in your mind." He gave Harry a serious look. "I would recommend never entering that castle unless I expressly tell you that you are ready."

Harry felt his blood run cold at the idea that he'd messed with a bit of dark magic placed on him by an evil wizard. Even if he'd escaped the castle, that had only been through dumb luck. He nodded firmly in agreement, causing Dumbledore to let out a mirthful chuckle.

"Now, back to the matter you having no magic." Dumbledore fixed Harry with a serious gaze, making a bead of sweat roll down Harry's back as he unconsciously straightened. "The magic Voldemort cast was meant to possess you. It failed because Voldemort died before he could complete the spell, but it still left its mark. We couldn't remove the dark magic, and we couldn't destroy it."

Harry closed his eyes in sudden understanding. "You sealed it, and my magic along with it, didn't you? That was the barrier that kept it from chasing me."

Dumbledore smiled grimly. "Yes, we did, and yes, I presume so."

"Could you have sealed it without sealing my magic?"

"We tried," Dumbledore said simply. "But it was too interwoven with your own magic. In the end, we decided it would be better to live without magic than to have magic, but be unable to use more than the tiniest amounts for fear of being possessed by whatever remained of Voldemort's spell."

Harry nodded, a bitter smile on his face. As much as he hated it, he agreed with the decision. It would have been a unique form a torture, having magic but not being able to use it. Then a terrifying thought occurred to him.

"Is that still the case? I mean, do I still need to worry about using too much magic?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No. The bonds between the dark magic and your own magic weakened over time. Eventually the bonds weakened enough that the ritual magic we used to seal the dark magic severed them completely. After all, the ritual we used was only ever meant to seal the dark magic. It only sealed your own personal magical power because your magic was so interwoven with the dark magic."

"So… I'm fine then?" Harry asked nervously.

"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore said gently. "Although I would strongly recommend that you never cast any magic that is dark or has dark aspects to it. It might excite the dark magic and cause it to do something unexpected."

"Is there anything I can do?" Harry pleaded. "Anything to make myself more safe?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Not a great deal. Not until you know more about magic. However," Dumbledore got up and walked over to a bookshelf, then pulled down a particular book, "This will provide some help."

Harry took the book and read the cover title. _The Most Magnificent Art of Occlumency: An Introduction_. "Occlumency, sir?"

"Mind magic. More specifically, defensive and personal mind magic. It's a most wonderous branch of magic that few know of and even fewer understand. Come ask me if you have any questions or problems with it."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Next Day, After Some Shopping * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Harry swallowed hard as he looked at the wand shop. He looked nervously up at Dumbledore, who gave him an encouraging smile.

"I'll really get a wand and be able to do magic?" Harry asked for the third time.

"You can already do magic," Dumbledore said gently. "But yes, you'll get a wand and be able to do magic much more easily."

Harry licked his lips and looked at Ollivander's shop. Then, as though he was jumping off a cliff, he dashed inside. Dumbledore shook his head, amused, then followed the boy in.

"Good evening Professor Dumbledore." Mr. Ollivander was sitting behind his desk, smiling at the two of them. Harry stared at the simple looking man for a moment. He'd expected the wandmaker to look and act more… Magical, he supposed. But Mr. Ollivander looked like a perfectly normal wizard, judging off all the other wizards Harry had seen in Diagon Alley. The wandmaker was reading a book called _Phoenixes, Dragons, and Unicorns: The Three Most Ancient Cores_.

"Not what you expected, Harry?"

Harry jerked as Mr. Ollivander addressed him by his name. "How do you know who I am?"

Mr. Ollivander smiled mysteriously, but didn't answer as he turned to look at Dumbledore. "Why is my shop not being swarmed by people wanting to see the brother of the Boy Who Lived?" Harry scowled at the reminder of his family.

"An illusion," Dumbledore said. "Not a very strong one, but enough to prevent any mishaps."

Harry cleared his throat, interrupting the discussion. The two wizards both looked at him at the same time. Harry's heart jumped and he took a step back, immediately regretting his decision to interrupt them.

"Yes Harry?" Dumbledore had a slightly bemused look on his face as he watched Harry closely.

"Don't worry Harry," Mr. Ollivander interject. "I know what you want. Your wand, right?"

Harry nodded quickly. Mr. Ollivander opened a drawer and a tape measure flew out. It shot over to Harry and began taking various measurements.

"Which is your wand arm?" Mr. Ollivander asked.

"I, well, I'm right handed," Harry floundered.

Mr. Ollivander nodded and glanced down at a sheet of paper where a quill was recording all the measurements the tape measure took. He got up and grabbed a wand box off the wall.

"Acacia wood and dragon heartstring. Ten and a half inches." He handed the wand to Harry, who took it gingerly. Sparks shot out both ends of the wand, causing Harry to yelp and nearly drop the wand. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. Mr. Ollivander merely chuckled. "No, not quite right. Not quite right at all."

This happened several times, although more often than not Harry wouldn't get any reaction at all from the wand. Then they arrived at the seventh wand.

"Beech wood and phoenix tail feather. Eleven and three-quarter inches. Rather bendy. Go on. I think this will be an excellent match."

Harry felt a connection to the wand the moment he saw it. He smiled and held out his hand towards it. The wand flew into his hand like it'd been summoned. Mr. Ollivander blinked in surprise. Dumbledore's eyebrows rose.

"This is my wand, Mr. Ollivander," Harry said firmly.

Mr. Ollivander recovered himself and smiled. "Indeed it is, Harry. Indeed it is."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Later That Night * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Harry carefully placed his wand in the dragonhide wand holster Dumbledore had bought him. He'd just finished cleaning and polishing it. It wasn't strictly necessary to clean and take care of your wand since it would slowly clean itself and repair from all but the worst damage if it's owner had a high enough compatibility, which Harry did. But cleaning it strengthened the bond between wand and wand-owner, which gave you better control over your magic and made spells easier to cast.

He glanced at the book he'd obtained those tid-bits of knowledge from. _Wands: The Lore, The Making, and The Maintaining_, by Alexander Ollivander. Mr. Ollivander's grandfather. Then he set that book aside and pulled out a different one. The introductory level book on occlumency, _The Most Magnificent Art of Occlumency: An Introduction_. He chuckled when he looked at the author and saw that it was Dumbledore. Harry opened the book and glanced through the sections.

Section One: The World Within The Mind

Section Two: Forming the Mindscape

Section Three: Basic Defenses

Section Four: Intermediate Defenses

Section Five: Advanced Defenses

Harry naturally opened the book to section one, chapter one, page one.

_There is a reason that occlumency is so rarely used. It is dangerous at the best of times, and lethal at the worst. Never do anything in this book without taking precautions._

Harry paused, then shrugged. Dumbledore wouldn't have given him the book if he didn't think Harry could handle it. Although it would probably be smart to always double-check with Dumbledore before doing anything. Or at least, before doing anything drastic. He read on.

_The World Within The Mind is your mind's eye. And inside it is the inner mind. The inner mind is the core of your mind within the World Within The Mind. It is your every thought and desire. It is your memories and dreams. It the way you think and the way your mind is structured. It is incredibly complex. To give a general description of it is impossible beyond what has already been said. No two inner minds are the same, just as no people are quite the same._

_ To a person who is just starting occlumency, the inner mind often appears as a web, although other common manifestations are trees, books, and paintings. The first thing any witch or wizard must do when desiring to learn occlumency is to understand the inner mind._

Harry thought back to when he'd first entered the World Within His Mind. The first thing he'd done was enter the castle, but the second thing was to flee to the tree. That tree still existed in his mindscape, and was the centerpiece around which everything else was designed. It had the most beautiful leaves and fruits on it. Harry smiled slightly at the memory of the tree. Then he blinked himself back to the present and continued reading.

He'd already progressed past what the first section of the book talked about, since he'd already established his mindscape. But he figured it was still a good idea to read about the proper method of forming the mindscape. He felt his blood run cold when he discovered that forming the mindscape without properly understanding the inner mind was almost certain to cause insanity. Which meant he'd lucked out beyond what words could describe. After recovering from the horrified numbness that had overtaken him from that revelation, he'd progressed to reading about the mindscape.

A mindscape was really just a fancy way of saying that the occulumens had progressed to a point where they could control their mind, altering it through the exertion of their will. The most basic use of this was to form the mindscape as most mages knew it, e.i., the little mental world occlumens would enter when meditating. Like Harry's forest or Voldemort's castle.

Harry shivered at the thought of the castle. The more he read about the defenses an accomplished occlumens could use, the more he realized that he'd just been lucky to get out of that castle without having his mind shredded. He'd had absolutely no defenses and no knowledge of occlumency. He'd basically been free food, for all the resistance he could have given.

Harry read late into the night. He didn't add or remove anything from his mindscape. He simply read through the entire book, working to understand everything in it before he risked applying the knowledge. After discovering how he'd nearly broken his own mind through his thoughtless actions, he was determined to be more careful.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Next Afternoon * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Harry paced nervously back and forth in his room. He stopped and glanced at the clock, then went back to pacing. A knock on the door made him freeze in place. A second knock had him darting over to the door. He opened it to show Dumbledore on the other side.

"Are you ready, Harry?" He asked. Harry nodded, too nervous to speak. It felt like somebody was squeezing his throat. He was getting a little light-headed. Dumbledore must have noticed something was wrong, as he pulled out a little vial from his pocket and handed it to Harry.

"Calming draught," He said at Harry's inquisitive look. "Go on. Drink it. It's not very strong, since the strong version would make it harder to think clearly. But it ought to take the edge off your nerves."

Harry nodded, and drank the potion. He followed Dumbledore up a flight of stairs and down a hall and through a passageway, and down another smaller flight of stairs, and so on. Before Harry knew it, they were in Dumbledore's office, standing in front of his gently burning fireplace. Dumbledore opened a little tin and took a pinch of green power out, which he tossed on the flames. The flames roared up, turning a bright green. Dumbledore turned to Harry.

"Harry, this is a way wizards and witches often travel. The powder I tossed on the fire is called floo powder. When a fireplace is connected to the floo network, tossing that powder on the fire allows you to enter the fire, speak the name of the place you want to go to, and travel through the network to that other fireplace. Of course, the place you want to go to also needs to be a part of the floo network. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, and Dumbledore continued. "I'll demonstrate. I will enter the fire and call out 'Potter Manor'. Then you enter and do the same. Don't take any breaks while saying Potter Manor and make sure to speak it clearly. This particular system uses your actual words as well as your intent to guide you to your destination. So speaking clearly is important."

Harry nodded again, and Dumbledore stepped into the fire. "Potter Manor," He said clearly. The fire whooshed up, engulfing him. Then he was gone and the fire was back to normal. Harry gulped and stared at the fire for several seconds. Then he started to get worried that the magic on the fire would run out. He summoned all his courage, and stepped into the fire. He let out a sigh of relief when it didn't burn or hurt. It actually tickled a little.

"Potter Manor," He said as clearly as he could. He felt a jerking sensation and the feeling of hurtling at high speeds. He flashed by what he assumed were other fireplaces connected to the floo network. Then he popped up in a fireplace. He stepped out, coughing as he took in a little smoke.

"Alright there, Harry?" Dumbledore asked in mild concern.

"F-Fine," Harry coughed. "Just a- a little smoke."

"Harry?"

Harry's head jerked up at the soft, female voice. It sounded oddly familiar. The woman he locked eyes with had fiery red hair, pale skin with a few freckles, and vibrant green eyes that looked almost exactly like his own, but were slightly darker.

Harry felt his heart lurch. "Mum?"

He saw a man walk in with a boy Harry's age at his side. The man looked a little apprehensive, although he was clearly trying to hide it. The boy looked both nervous and excited.

"Dad?"

His mother and father both nodded. Harry looked at the boy.

"I suppose you're my supposedly famous twin, Daniel, then," He stated. The boy nodded, the movement shifting his hair so that the scar on his forehead was briefly visible.

"Right then." Harry clasped his hands behind his back to hide their trembling. "Give me one good reason why I should think of any of you as family."

Lily and James Potter both flinched back at the harsh words. Daniel looked like he'd been punched in the gut. Dumbledore reached out and put a calming hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Harry, what do you mean?" James asked nervously.

Harry looked him in the eye without flinching, although it was a near thing. "I mean that you people left me on my aunt and uncle's doorstep after finding out I had no magic. You _abandoned _me. Decided you didn't want me." The words Harry had been thinking ever since finding out about what happened spilled out of him before he could stop himself. "You decided I wasn't good enough for you. Or maybe it was that I just couldn't measure up to Daniel. I don't know. Honestly, I don't care. The end result is the same."

"Harry, we made a mistake. A terrible-" Lily began, but Harry cut her off angrily.

"A _mistake_? YOU LEFT ME ON MY AUNT AND UNCLE'S DOORSTEP!" He roared. He tore off his robes, then his undershirt. James' eyes widened and Lily gasped. Daniel just stood there, rooted to the floor. Harry's whole upper body was a patchwork of different scars. Harry pointed at one on his arm.

"That's the first one I ever got. My cousin Dudley tripped me when I was running towards the stairs. I tumbled down them hard enough to break my arm. The bone went straight through the skin." Harry's voice was hollow. Cold and detached. Condemning. It made the Potters shudder.

"My aunt and uncle were panicking. Aunt Petunia was trying to stop the bleeding while Uncle Vernon was calling the hospital. Then my body started putting itself back together. That's when they knew I was different. _A freak_." Harry spat the last words, and the Potters flinched. Dumbledore's eyes looked rather watery. Harry pointed at a different scar, this one on his back. It was long and ragged, and went nearly from his shoulder to his hip.

"Uncle Vernon got drunk that night. Not like he used to. He drank bottle after bottle. Thinking back on it, I'm surprised he survived drinking that much." Dumbledore felt like somebody had dropped a lead ball in his stomach as he realized where this story was going.

"Finally, he got up and walked up to my room. Back then I actually had a room, not just a cupboard. He dragged me out of bed and kicked me down the stairs. Then he hit me on the head with the bottle he'd been drinking from." Daniel glanced up from Harry's shoes to look his twin in the eye, then flinched and looked back down at once at the pain in the other boy's eye.

"The bottle broke, so he just started hitting me. I don't really remember much of that, but I _do_ remember when he grabbed the biggest piece of the bottle and swiped at me with it. Then it healed in seconds." Harry paused for a moment, frowning slightly at the memory. "It was the worst thing I'd ever felt. Not just because it hurt, but because even then, I knew it meant things would be different from that point on."

"What do you mean?" James asked hoarsely. He was white as a sheet and had collapsed onto the living room couch. Lily was sitting next to him, clutching his hand and looking like she might throw up. Harry looked at him a tad mockingly as all the bitterness he'd built up since finding out his parents had chosen to leave him at the Dursleys instead of raise him themselves welled to the surface.

"I mean they started beating me as a way to relieve stress. Bad day at work? Beat up Harry. Rough day at school? Beat up Harry. After all, _the freak_ will just heal up in a matter of seconds. And he isn't even a real person anyways." Harry said the last bit in a scathing, mocking voice. Dumbledore squeezed his shoulder gently, and Harry jerked. He looked guiltily up at Dumbledore. He wasn't quite sure what he'd done wrong, but knew that he'd done something.

He took a deep breath, and tried to calm down. "So, like I said. Why should I think of any of you as family, when you gave me to those people?"

Lily bit her lip hard enough that Harry thought she might draw blood. James looked like somebody had ripped his soul out.

"Harry," James said. "We had no idea. We thought you didn't have any magic, so-"

"So you decided to get rid of me?" Harry interrupted. "Sorry, _dad_-" James flinched at the scathing tone- "But even if they hadn't beaten me for having magic, I'd still need a good reason as to why you'd given me up. People just don't do things like that to their family. Not to people they love and care for. If you were able to give me up so easily, all I can think is that you just don't care about me. Not as family at any rate."

James sagged back into the couch. Lily couldn't even make eye contact with Harry. Daniel had fled the room at some point. Harry looked back and forth between his parents for a moment, then snorted in disgust.

"That's it then? Nothing you can say?"

Harry waited a moment, then shook his head. He felt sick. He didn't know if it was from guilt at how he'd treated them or pain from how they'd treated him, but either way he felt like he'd throw up any moment.

"Dumbledore," He whispered hoarsely. "Can we go now?"

Dumbledore looked sadly at the Potters, then at Harry. "Yes, that might be for the best," He said quietly. He picked up the Potter's tin of floo powder, tossed some in the fire, then set it back down.

"You go first this time, Harry. Say 'Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office' " He said. Harry nodded, and walked in.

"Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office," Harry said. There was a whoosh of fire, and he was gone. Dumbledore turned back to look at Lily and James.

"He doesn't hate you," He said. "He's angry, and for good reason. He's sad, and hurt. But he doesn't hate you. In fact, he desperately wants to love you. But he simply has no reason to."

Dumbledore saw the light in their eyes start to return at those words, and smiled gently. "Just be careful. If you mess up again, it's very possible he _will_ start hating you."

With those words, Dumbledore turned and walked into the fire. "Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I thought long and hard about what house to put Harry in, but ultimately I decided that - was the best for him. It isn't a perfect fit by any means, but it will help me develop him in the way I want to.**

**Chapter 3**

Harry stared at the blank brick wall. No matter how hard he looked, he couldn't see anything magical about it. But the wall leading to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was very obviously magical, since he'd just seen a girl with bushy brown hair walk straight through it with her parents in tow.

He sighed. Dumbledore had taken care to warn Harry about what he should expect. He was a nearly perfect physical match for his twin, with the only differences being him lacking a scar and the two of them having slightly different shades of green eyes. As such, he'd almost certainly be mistaken for his brother and thus swarmed by rabid fans.

Harry sighed. Then he shrugged and started walking towards the barrier. Dumbledore had to have his reasons for making him come to Hogwarts on the train like everybody else. Although it might be as simple as trying to have him make some friends. Actually, it probably _was_ that simple.

Right before reaching the barrier, Harry paused, then pulled a scarf out of a pocket in his robes. It was kind of pathetic, really. Thin, scratchy, itchy, threadbare, and cracked and crumbled slightly in his hands. But all he needed was to cover the lower half of his face. So what if he got a few odd looks? It would still be better than people mistaking him for his twin.

After wrapping the scarf around himself, he stepped through the barrier. Then he heard a rattling sound from the other side of the barrier approaching rapidly. He jumped out of the way just in time as a red haired boy ran through the barrier at full speed, pushing a loaded cart in front of him.

"Hey, watch it!" Harry shouted angrily. "You nearly ran me over!"

The redhead slowed to a stop, shouting a half-hearted "sorry" as another boy plunged through the barrier in the same way. Harry's eyes widened as he recognized Daniel. He quickly turned away from them and hurried through the milling crowd to the train. He had to struggle, since people had immediately noticed Daniel and started crowding around him. A group of redheads had to surround him and help him to force his way through the crowd.

Harry sighed heavily as he slipped onto the train and found and empty compartment. He took off the scratchy scarf and tapped the medallion on his shirt. The illusion of normal clothes vanished, showing that he was actually wearing his Hogwarts robes. He'd asked Tibble, one of the Hogwarts house elves, to cast the illusion. The idea of trying to change on the train hadn't appealed to him.

Harry pulled out _Magical Theory: The How's and the Why's_ by Arthur Wing. It was a more advanced and in depth book than the one on the book list, which seemed to have been written for idiots.

_Magic is both extremely simple and extremely complicated. To cast a spell, you could simply wave your wand in the correct pattern and say the proper words. But you wouldn't actually know the spell. You'd simply know how to cast it._

_The better way to cast magic is to properly understand the theory behind. Why do you wave your wand in that particular pattern? Why do you say those precise words? Why do you need a wand or incantation in the first place, when wandless magic is possible? I shall attempt to answer all those questions and more in this book._

Harry sunk into the book. Mr. Wing was an excellent writer and clearly knew the subject. He'd just finished the introduction when the train jerked and began to move. He glanced around, vaguely surprised that nobody had entered his compartment, then sank back into the book.

Some time later, when he was halfway through the first chapter, his concentration was broken by a croaking sound. Harry blinked and looked up.

On the seat across from him was a toad. It was large, fat, and staring right at him with its gleaming bulbous eyes.

"Hello," Harry said, then immediately felt stupid. Who says hello to a toad?

The toad croaked at him, then closed its eyes and settled down to sleep. Harry stared at it for a few moments longer, nonplussed. Then he shrugged and went back to his book.

_At Hogwarts, these rules of wand waving are taught through a sort of osmosis. By that I mean that you're make to cast so many spells that you unconsciously learn the rules of wand waving. Even if you couldn't write an essay in them, you would instinctively understand them._

Harry was immediately entranced. But not ten minutes later, the door opened. Harry looked up to see a girl with bushy brown hair standing in the doorway with a pudgy boy with black hair behind her. She opened her mouth to speak, but the boy cut her off.

"Trevor!" He cried blissfully. The toad across from Harry tried to jump away from the delighted boy, but was caught. Harry winced as the boy made the toad's eye bulge from how hard he was squeezing.

"Hey, be a little more gentle," he said. "You're crushing the poor guy."

The boy glanced down at the toad and his eyes widened. He quickly relaxed his grip. The toad squirmed into a more comfortable position, then croaked in a grateful sort of way.

Throughout all this, the girl was frowning at Harry. Harry suspected he knew why. And sure enough, when her eyes widened in recognition and she opened her mouth, she said what he'd been expected.

"Are you Daniel Potter?" She blurted.

"No." Harry said. There was a tinge of coldness to his voice that made the other boy tense and the girl to frown.

"Nonsense," she insisted. "I've seen your picture. You're Daniel Potter, the Boy Who Lived."

"I think I know who I am better than you. Now if you don't mind, could you leave my compartment?

The girl huffed at him, then looked at the boy. "Neville, come on."

"Alright, Hermione. Sorry, Daniel." Neville gave Harry an apologetic look as he followed the girl out of the compartment, shutting the door behind them.

Harry let out a shaky breath, relaxing fists that he suddenly realized were clenched. He pulled out his wand and tapped the door, then the wall saying, "_regillo_," as he did so. He felt magical power leave his body, drawn out by the spell. The door was now bound to the wall, making it impossible to open. Well, so long as nobody used a counter charm or was strong enough to outright overpower the spell. His spell worked, Harry went back to reading.

_Moore's Formula is the best way to calculate the path of the wand relative to the hand to obtain the effect you desire. However, some witches and wizards prefer Elliot's Formula, which calculates the path according to the exact center of the wand._

_I find that it's best to use both, although it's not strictly needed. But using both approaches allows you to more thoroughly examine the spell you intend to cast, allowing you to more easily catch errors you may have made. After all, they're simply two different ways to get the same answer. So if they don't match perfectly you've made some mistake somewhere._

Some time later, the train pulled up to the school. Harry reluctantly closed his book and reached for his scarf. He frowned and plucked at the empty pocket. He checked his other pockets, then looked around. But the scarf was gone. He gave a resigned sigh and tried to open the door. It wouldn't budge. Harry experienced a split second of confusion before remembering the binding he'd placed. He pulled out his wand, canceled the spell, and opened the door.

Daniel's eyes widened as he stared at his startled twin. His redheaded best friend, Ron, looked back and forth between them.

"Daniel, what?" He asked, bewildered.

Daniel tore his eyes away from the increasingly stoney face of his brother and muttered to Ron, "I'll explain later. Come on. Let's go." Daniel hurried the nonplussed Ron along, leaving his brother behind.

Harry watched them leave, then turned his languid gaze towards Hermione and Neville who were staring at him, wide-eyed.

"Believe me now?" He asked Hermione mockingly. She looked angry for a moment, then embarrassed.

"Yes. Sorry," she muttered as she walked past, dragging Neville with her. Neville gave Harry an apologetic look

Harry watched them for a moment, smirking. Then he realized he was going that way as well, and his smirk vanished. He trailed after them, staying just far enough away that they didn't notice him.

After following Hagrid to the boats and going across the lake they arrived in the great hall. Harry looked around curiously. He'd wandered all over the castle over the last month, so he'd naturally seen the great hall. But that had been when the castle was empty. Seeing it full to the brim with people, all laughing and catching up, gave the huge room a new level of cheeriness and warmth.

Harry chortled when he overheard Ron telling Daniel that the test was wrestling a troll. Daniel had to gently correct him, at which point Ron swore vengeance on his older brothers. Then everybody listened to the Sorting Hat as it sang its song and Professor McGonagall began calling people over to the hat.

Everybody went extra quiet when "Potter, Daniel" was called. He was under the hat for nearly five minutes before the hat called out Gryffindor. The Gryffindor table burst into applause. After the applause died down, people began to realize that Professor McGonagall wasn't calling out the next name. Instead, she was having a whispered discussion with Dumbledore.

After several minutes, during which the students began their own whispered conversations, Professor McGonagall stood up straight again, cleared her throat, and called out, "Potter, Hadrian."

There was dead silence for a moment. Then, as Harry walked over to the Sorting Hat, people began whispering furiously, looking back and forth between Daniel and Harry. Harry ignored them as he stuck the hat on his head.

"Hmm. How interesting. You're a very good occlumens considering that you've only been properly training for a month."

Harry twitched as he heard a soft, quiet voice in his ear. _"Who are you?"_ He asked.

"I'm the Sorting Hat of course. Now, let me see…" Harry felt his feeble occlumency defenses pushed gently aside. He concentrated for a moment, then appeared in his mindscape. It was a lot harder than normal. The Sorting Hat was flying around, looking at his forest. It saw him and flew over.

"I don't suppose you could direct me to your inner mind? I seem to be having trouble finding it. I'm not used to students having a full mindscape set up." Harry stared at the hat for a moment, then shrugged. He called Felix, one of his phoenixes, over.

With a trill of phoenix song, the bird flew over, grabbed the hat, and glided over to the silver tree. Harry moved himself there with a gentle exertion of his will and sat down to watch. The hat flew from fruit to fruit, touching each one for a moment before moving to the next. After looking at each fruit, the hat flew over to Harry and plopped on the ground next to him.

"You're quite an interesting person, Harry. Enough intelligence for Ravenclaw, enough cunning for Slytherin, enough courage for Gryffindor, and enough loyalty for Hufflepuff. However, you only give your loyalty to those you trust. And you don't trust without very good reason. So Hufflepuff is out. You don't want knowledge for the sake of knowledge. You want it so you can protect yourself. To become strong enough to never be hurt again."

Harry flinched at the statement. "You won't tell Dumbledore, right?" He asked urgently. "It's just, I don't think he'd approve."

"Relax Harry," The hat said gently. "I couldn't even if I wanted to. I'm only able to share things like you intending to kill other students. Everything else is secret."

Harry nodded, relieved. The hat waited for a moment to see if he'd say anything else, then continued when he was silent. "For those reasons, Ravenclaw wouldn't be the proper fit for you. As for Slytherin, you would detest every other person there. Although you're a rather secretive person yourself, you hate it when other people are less than honest with you."

"But I don't lie," Harry protested, feeling like the hat was calling him a hypocrite. "I hate it when people lie to me."

"And that house is full of lies and schemes. Mostly harmless plots by decent people, but it would still drive you mad. So Slytherin is out."

"Am I to be in Gryffindor then?" Harry asked, a little unhappily.

The hat sighed. Harry couldn't imagine why, as it had no lungs, but it did. "Harry, I know you don't want people to think that you're just a less impressive version of your brother-" Harry flinched again "-But I'm going to put you in Gryffindor regardless. It's the best house for you. If people do think that, prove them wrong! You're your own person. Although you and your twin do have a lot in common, you're still two very different people. And if other people can't see that, than perhaps they aren't worth your time, alright?"

Harry gave the hat a weak smile. "Alright."

There was a rushing sound, and Harry found himself back on the chair. He'd somehow been ejected from his mindscape.

"I'd recommend putting up a shield to prevent that. It's hard to defend your mind if your opponent can just kick you back out." Then the hat shouted out, "Gryffindor!"

Harry took the hat off his head and placed it back on the seat. The applause he received was nothing like what his brother got. Most people still looked confused and didn't seem to know whether they should be clapping or not. Harry looked up and down the table, feeling a little lost. His gaze locked on Neville and Hermione and he walked over to sit with them. He didn't especially like them, but at least he'd met them.

"Hello Neville, Hermione," He said as he sat down. He saw all the people looking back and forth between him and his twin, and suddenly felt exhausted.

"Hadrian, isn't it?" Neville was looking at him with interest. "Are you related to Daniel Potter, or is it just the same last name?"

"Of course they're related," Hemione interjected. "Just look at them. They're practically identical. The only difference is the scar on Daniel's forehead."

Neville frowned at her. "Only their faces look really similar. Hadrian is a lot skinnier than Daniel."

"Please stop calling me Hadrian," Harry asked quietly. "I prefer Harry."

They both looked at him for a moment. Neville took in his tired appearance and looked a little embarrassed. Hermione didn't seem to notice, as she kept talking.

"I've read all about Daniel, of course. He's mentioned in so many books, so it would be hard not to, even if I wanted to. But none of those books mentioned that he had a brother. And are you twins? You look like twins. And-"

"Hermione," Neville interrupted, "I don't think Harry's feeling up for a long conversation."

Hermione focused her thoughtful gaze on Harry. This time she noticed his lack of energy and looked down at her hands, embarrassed.

"Oh," She said. "Sorry. I get carried away sometimes." She muttered the last bit quickly, but Harry still heard it.

"At least you know you do," He said. She glared at him but quickly realized he was just stating a fact, not insulting her.

Just then, Dumbledore spoke his few words, Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, and Tweak. Harry smiled to himself. Nitwit was the house elf in charge of Ravenclaw. Blubber was in charge of Gryffindor, Oddment of Slytherin, and Tweak of Hufflepuff. House elves did love their strange names.

After they finished eating and got their timetables, all the students went off to their house dormitories. Percy took charge of the first years, including Harry, and led them to Gryffindor Tower and Harry and Neville parted with Hermione as they went up to their rooms.

"So he showed up at our doorstep almost a month ago, shouts at mum and dad for a little while, then leaves! I mean, come on!"

Harry froze as he heard Daniel's voice. Neville, who was walking behind him, bumped into him and forced him to take another step forward, making him visible to the occupants of the room. Daniel stopped mid-sentence and Ron glared at Harry.

"What are you playing at, huh?" Ron growled at Harry. "Coming out of the middle of nowhere, attacking Daniel's parents, are you even a Potter? Mr. and Mrs. Potter wouldn't do something like give their squib son away. So that story's obviously troll crap. So who are you really? Some kid who really wanted to be the brother of the Boy Who Lived?"

Harry closed his eyes and started counting. He hit three, considered his temper, then kept counted. After hitting ten, he opened his eyes again and made his wand slip out of its holster and into his hand.

"Ron, you'll either apologize or I'll curse you," He said calmly. Ron grabbed at his wand, but Harry was faster.

"_Petrificus totalus_!"

Ron stiffened up, then fell on his face. Daniel grabbed at his wand and Harry hit him with the same curse. Neville was gawking at him. Harry raised an eyebrow at him.

"What? It's not like I hurt them. They'll just be really stiff when the curse wears off since I can't do the counter curse yet."

"B-But… You just cursed the Boy Who Lived!" Neville stammered.

Harry tsked and shook his head. "I cursed my git of a twin brother and his stupid cronie. Saying something dramatic like 'You cursed the Boy Who Lived' makes it sound a lot worse than it actually is. Now come on, help me move them into their beds. It will take a few hours for the curse to wear off and I'm not mean enough to leave them on the floor that whole time."

Neville shook his head, but helped Harry move Ron and Daniel into their beds. Harry looked consideringly down at the two of them. Just making them a little stiff didn't seem like a proper punishment. Then a vaguely evil idea occurred to him. He pointed his wand at Ron's face.

"_Steleus_."

Ron's eyes widened as he was overcome by the urge to sneeze. But of course, he couldn't sneeze since he was petrified. All he could do was suffer, constantly on the brink of sneezing. Harry grinned evilly when he saw that it had the effect he wanted. He turned towards Daniel, but Neville blocked his path.

"You can't just curse and hex them all you want!" Neville said. The somewhat impressive sight of him standing between Harry and his prey with his arms spread out wide was ruined by his legs shaking slightly.

Harry cocked his head curiously. "And how exactly are you going to stop me?"

Neville looked like he was on the edge of having a panic attack. Then he charged at Harry, who stumbled back in surprise. Harry quickly regained his balance and spun out of the way, sticking his foot out so that Neville tripped and fell on top of Ron.

Harry then darted over to Daniel, grinned at him, and cast the sneezing hex on him. Daniel gave him as hateful a look as he could manage with his face frozen. Harry just smirked.

"All right Neville," He said, turning towards the boy. "It's too l-"

He was cut off as Neville's fist slammed into his face. Harry was knocked on top of Daniel and his wand fell out of his hand. Neville snatched it up as Harry tried to regain his senses. Neville had hit him hard on the nose, and it was bleeding pretty badly. Harry rubbed at it, trying to determine if it was broken. He then pulled his glasses off and sighed at the bent and twisted frames.

"Really Neville?" He asked drily. "You punched me? It's not like I was using anything terrible on them. They just can't move and have a horrible need to sneeze."

Harry had determined that his nose was indeed broken. It was already healing, and he grimaced as he forced it back into its proper place. His healing magic would usually drag anything broken back to where it was supposed to be, but it wasn't perfect. Especially not for his nose.

His nasal issues addressed, Harry focused on Neville. Then he noticed two wide-eyed boys in the other two beds. He waved at them.

"Hi. Enjoy your evening show?" He gave them a winning smile, and they both flinched back. Harry frowned and ran his tongue over his teeth. He tasted blood and nodded to himself. Smiled with blood pouring out of his nose and into his mouth definitely wouldn't be a great first impression.

Harry sighed and turned to Neville. He stuck at his hand. "Wand please."

Neville gaped at him, then started backing away. Harry rolled his eyes. "Neville, I swear on my magic I won't attack you tonight without being provoked if you give me my wand back."

Neville's eyes bulged at the casual use of a common magical oath. The backlash of breaking one could make you lose your magic if you were weak. Even strong wizards would be unable to cast spells for weeks after breaking a common magical oath. He hesitated a moment longer, then handed Harry his wand back.

Harry quickly checked it for damage, then relaxed when he found nothing. He used _repairo_ on his glasses, stuck his wand back in its holster, then reached out and flicked Neville hard on the forehead. Neville jerked back with a little yelp.

"That's for punching me," Harry said.

Neville whimpered, then retreated to his bed. Harry walked over to his own and changed before collapsing into the four poster bed. He was asleep in moments.

Harry was woken up abruptly when a fist slammed into his face. He thrashed in his blankets as he was hit a second time. Then a third and fourth time. He didn't cry out; his uncle would only hit harder if he did. Harry managed to get an arm out from under the blankets and desperately tried to cover his face. He didn't fight back; his uncle would break at least a few ribs whenever he tried that.

"That's for cursing us, liar," Somebody hissed in his ear-Ron?

Fully awake, Harry quickly realized what had happened as he struggled to look around. He was a little woozy from the punches, but that was healing quickly. The room was dark and two figures were moving to their beds. The petrification curses must have worn off, leaving Ron and Daniel free to take their revenge. Harry could have slapped himself. He should have seen that coming! Why didn't he see that coming?

He sighed to himself and rubbed at his face, trying to make it feel normal again. From how sensitive the bruises were, he expected it would take just a few minutes to heal completely. Ron and Daniel didn't have anywhere near the strength of Dudley or Uncle Vernon. A good beating from Uncle Vernon could leave him on the floor for half an hour or more.

Harry sighed again and tried to go back to sleep. Really, he didn't think he deserved to get hit that many times. It's not like he'd hurt them. At worst they'd be a little stiff. At _worst_. As he thought so, he fell asleep once again.


End file.
